Steele Typing a Remington
by SteeleHere44
Summary: Story 13. Mr. Steele discovers a hidden side about Laura's earlier days.
1. Chapter 1

Steele Typing a Remington

_Disclaimer: _

_Remington Steele and its characters are owned by MTM. No copyright infringement intended. For entertainment purposes only. _

_This is an after Season 4 story. Season 5 doesn't exist in my AU._

**Prologue**

He closed the door behind her carefully, almost soundlessly. "Call me when you are ready to talk; I'll be here, waiting. I love you," he whispered to himself, not believing what had just happened. His hands remained holding the door handle for a long aching minute after her departure. He turned around to face the emptiness surrounding him, and it was then when it hit him.

They were in front of their first major marriage crisis. It wasn't that they hadn't been through some minor ones. They had their issues, as every couple did. And they worked through them, like every couple did as well. But the terrible part this time was that he didn't have a clue about what the problem was. The only certainty was that he was as responsible as she could be. It was a situation between two people in love. It was a situation between two adults, one of them needing answers that the other wasn't giving. Life was usually like that. But sometimes innocent words could act as a cathartic shot; sometimes actions could develop into unexpected despair. And there were always hurting consequences after that.

He will give her some time, just as she begged him to do before kissing him and going away. It will be the most difficult time of his life; but after seeing the pain in her eyes right before turning to go away, he was sure it will be the worst time of her life as well. Just the thought of being apart for some time felt like hell. He wasn't ready to elaborate anything ahead of that.

**Chapter 1**

"Mrs. Steele, you have a call. Mr. Powell is on line two."

"Mr. Powell? The name is not familiar. Is he related to any case we are handling, Mildred?"

"I don't think so, Mrs. Steele. But he asked specially for you. He asked for Miss Holt, in fact."

"Maybe someone related to an old case… Transfer the call, Mildred."

"Hello, Laura Holt speaking…"

"Hello Laura. Perhaps you don't remember me. I'm Ryan Powell, Jane Adler's husband. I don't think we have met."

"Oh! Jane's husband, sure. We'd spoken a lot about you when we were in high school. Can't imagine why," she added jokingly.

"Well, we are together since then, so you might have. I heard a lot about you as well. Jane was always talking about your adventures in high school. It seems you were such a pair."

"Yes, we did. We were close friends back then. We didn't see a lot more of each other after high school, though. We went through college in different states, and I think we lost touch after some time."

A moment of silence followed.

"I need your help, Laura."

"Did something happen to Jane?"

"Not technically, I guess. But I wish I could be sure about that."

"Do you want to come to the agency? We can talk about that today, if you are available."

"Sure. Would 3:00 this afternoon be ok?"

"Sounds perfect to me. I'll be waiting."

Laura put the phone on the cradle, and stood there mentally rearranging their schedule for a brief moment. Looking at her watch she stood up from the chair and walked to Mr. Steele's office. He was leisurely reading the newspaper; the agency paperwork neatly separated aside waiting for his signature.

"We should go have lunch now, if you're interested in eating today. We have an appointment at 3:00. "

He peeked at her from his reading. "Laura, it's 11:30 in the morning. We don't need to be out of the office until 1:00, for God's sake. I'm in the middle of my reading." He returned his eyes to the paper in his hands. Laura didn't move for a moment. Sensing her eyes still on him, he put down the paper and asked, "Are you serious?"

"I'm serious. As I guessed, all the files are still beside you, still not signed. Mildred has to send some of those papers in this afternoon's mail. So, we should be going now, and you should try to have some work done by the time of Ryan Powell's arrival."

"Who's Ryan Powell?"

She hesitated a bit before replying. "A friend. A friend of a friend. He is Jane Adler's husband."

"Can't remember the name. Did we meet her?"

"No, I guess not. She was a good friend from high school."

"Mmm, interesting. Someone from your high school past coming out…" He folded the paper, put down his sleeves, readjusted his tie and put on his coat. "It will be a pleasure to have you enlighten me about the case during lunch."

"I wasn't expecting to hear that from you. Not complaining about wasting a lunch with me, talking about business…"

"There's a misunderstanding there, Laura. It never is a wasted lunch if you are there with me, even if we might have a business conversation in the meantime. Besides, it's my chance to know something about your high school experience after all. Not that you are hiding anything about it, but you must agree you never talk about it."

"You are right. I guess college took over high school at the end. So, I talk more about it. But there's nothing mysterious to hide; in opposition to other people still hiding a mysterious past after all this years…"

"Martino's or The Bistro?" he asked.

"What about Big Mamma? I love their gourmet sandwiches and French fries."

"Sticky fingers conversation… I hope it won't get too sticky…"

"Try to maintain the conversation between regular boundaries and it will work, Mr. Steele."

"Boundaries; such a tempting word, Laura."

"To respect or to break?"

The doubt assaulted him, but then he sensed he was trespassing into unsafe territory. "Come on Laura. It's getting late. We should be going if you want some paperwork done before our client's arrival."

"I want _all_ the paperwork done, Mr. Steele…"

"Boundaries, Laura. Don't push too hard on me…"

"So, what about our client?" He asked her.

"He called me this morning, and asked me for help. He said he was sure something happened to Jane. That's all I know. He will explain the rest later at the office."

"So, maybe you could tell me about Jane. She was your friend in high school?"

"Yes. She lived near my house, so we used to sit together on the school bus. We were mostly school friends, you know. We didn't go out with boys together. She was a great student and spent most of the time between books. She loved to read, and had a full scholarship in English Language &amp; Literature in college. She went to Harvard."

"Harvard? I see. Another brilliant mind. "

"Another? What do you mean?"

"Well, you had a full scholarship in Stanford, didn't you? And you are brilliant, so… I suppose she is special like you."

She smiled at him, "Thank you."

"You are welcome. So, you were friends, and you shared the bus ride home. Anything else you had in common?"

"Actually, yes. We helped each other with our homework from time to time. As I was saying, she was very good in Literature and an excellent reader, and I was good in Math and Calculus. So, I used to do some of her Math exercises and she used to do some of my Literature essays through our last high school year. We added a personal touch to the work before delivering it to the teacher just to avoid suspicion, you know…"

Mr. Steele left his sandwich on the dish, unable to believe his ears. He couldn't help but smile in amusement at her words.

"You were a con woman in high school, Laura? I'm stunned."

"I wasn't a con woman in high school! It's just that I wasn't good enough in Literature, and I found someone who was, and was eager to help me. I accepted her help. That's all."

"But you conned your Literature teacher, and helped your friend to con your Math and Calculus teacher as well. Wait! Are we talking about the same Calculus teacher?"

"Mrs. Brown…"

"No, I guess we are not. I'm bloody relieved to hear that."

She was getting exasperated; "It wasn't like that…" She tried to find a good and healthy explanation in her mind without success. "Okay. Maybe it was. But if that makes me a con woman, it takes Jane up to the same category. And I'm not comfortable thinking about her in that way… She was a very nice girl. It was high school after all. We were too young."

"Sometimes we chose strange patterns to follow when we are young. How great that we had the chance to correct them as adults, eh?"

She knew he was not speaking only about her. He was speaking about himself as well. "Yes, it's a great thing," she added.

"But you didn't learn as much as you thought. You were still insisting on doing the same mistake when you created Remington Steele," he added mischievously.

"So did you…"

"Touché…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"So, you got married right after college," said Laura. "You were too young!"

"I don't think so," Ryan Powell answered. "We were grown enough to know we wanted to spend the rest of our lives with each other. It was that simple. I still want it. And I'm sure Jane still wants it too. That's why I'm worried. One day, I arrived home from work and she was ready to leave. I told her not to think about the possibility that I was letting her go away. She didn't give any explanation about why she needed the time and space for herself she was asking for. I simply respected her decision and let her go. She kissed me goodbye without saying anything else and left. That was three days ago. The longest three days of my life."

"You haven't heard a word from her since then?" asked Mr. Steele.

Ryan shook his head in silence.

"You have to tell us more about you two, your jobs, your families, your friends. We need something to start working on," said Laura.

"Our families still live here in California; mine in San Francisco and Jane's in LA. I'm the Senior Account Manager at Forsythe House."

"Forsythe House?" asked Mr. Steele raising his eyebrows with interest.

"Yes. And Jane writes for us. She writes under a penname: _J. A. Powell_."

"_J. A. Powell_. As in _Jane Adler Powell_, I suppose," said Laura.

"You are right. She decided to use her real name slightly changed to keep some of her identity, but still going under a penname."

"Is she working on any project at the moment?"

"Not at the moment. She just sent her last work to the editor last week." said Ryan.

"Can you send us a copy of it? We'll be very discreet, as you would guess. But I think there could be something useful hiding there between the lines," said Laura.

"Of course; I'll send it later. I'll send you the manuscript along with samples of her other published books."

"That would be good. We'll have some material to go through," said Mr. Steele.

"Just a last question, Ryan," said Laura. "Do you have children?"

"No. We don't."

Noticing the silence following those last words, Mr. Steele found the precise moment to close the meeting. "Okay. I think we can help you. Our secretary will ask you some practical questions, and we'll be in touch as soon as we find anything."

Laura accompanied Ryan to Mildred's desk, and returned to Mr. Steele's office after saying goodbye.

"He is a nice man," she said.

"It seems he is. And a good business man too. He is almost thirty and he is a Senior Account Manager at one of the most prestigious publishers of the country."

"It's funny, you know. I've read some of her books, and I didn't notice they were really hers."

"It speaks volumes about her talent," he added.

"I suppose. Even so, I suppose an author would leave part of his essence in every one of his writings; some of his soul in every character, a slight trace of themselves living in every one of their books."

"Perhaps she does that. But you are not able to recognize it because a lot of time has passed after the last time you saw her. She might have changed. Life tends to do that to people."

"You are right." She exhaled a big sigh and rubbed her hands, "Let's start working on the case."

The manuscript arrived late in the afternoon. Mildred couldn't help herself and opened the manila envelope to peer between the pages. J. A. Powell was one of her favorite authors after all.

"Mildred!" Laura said, surprising the secretary. "Don't tell me this is the manuscript."

"Miss Holt! You are going to kill me one of these days. I didn't hear you come in." She was clearly still startled by the interruption.

"That's because you were occupied in a different task, Mildred. You were totally distracted. You called me _Miss Holt_."

"Did I?"

"Yes, you did. Is that the manuscript?"

"Yes. It just arrived."

"Let me see it."

"Will I have the chance to read at least a chapter until you send it back, Mrs. Steele?"

"We'll see, Mildred. It's an element to work on the case, you are aware of that?"

"Of course I'm aware of that, Mrs. Steele. We are all professionals here." She surreptitiously tried to make some order in her already neat desk; and after doing that she asked Laura, "Are you going to bring it home with you? Because if not, I could bring it home with me; just like an extra security effort, you know. It would be not safe to leave it at the office the whole night."

"You can take it with you, Mildred; but no comments with anyone, even with the Dragon Ladies. It's unpublished material. It's not ready to see the light of the day. Am I clear?"

"My lips are sealed Mrs. Steele."

"I count on that," answered Laura on the way to her office.

"Would you like some coffee to go with your book, Mrs. Steele?"

"I'd love some Mildred, Thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

They were in front of the fireplace enjoying one of their favorite moments at the end of the day. "Did you see the sparkle in Mildred's eyes when she left the office with the manuscript?" asked Laura.

"It's free literature, Laura. She is a smart woman who will never leave a chance wasted." He left his glass on the floor, "What about you? I didn't know you liked A. J. Powell books. You are not reading a lot lately."

"I wish I could. I love to read. Even if I'm not capable of writing something on my own, I enjoy tremendously reading a good book."

"What are your preferences? Back in time I remember you being barely embarrassed about some of Charlotte Knight's enhancing literature knowledge."

"Oh… Will you ever forget we had that conversation?" Her hands covered her face in embarrassment. After a while, she looked at him, failing completely in her attempt to look mad at him, and then started to laugh, quickly followed by him.

"Come on, seriously. What kind of literature do you like? I didn't have enough time to go through your old home's library. We weren't that _close_ at the time to do that."

"I like classics. I've had my share of them when I was in college. I took it as a challenge to compensate my Math addiction. It felt like a smart addition to cultivate my soul."

"Sounds smart enough to me."

"And I like biographies. You can always discover incredible secrets reading people's bios. It's very much like detective work, but with everything lying on the table because someone already did the work. And I really enjoy a good romance…"

"I know that part already…" he tried to control himself with not too much success.

She looked at him slightly exasperated, "Will you give me the chance to explain why?"

"Go ahead," he answered trying to re focus on her words.

"I love romance. Even if I really enjoy reading mystery or suspense books, I've never found myself that entranced as when I'm reading romance. It's different. Maybe it's a female thing…"

"I'm glad you like romance…"

"I'm glad too. And I'm especially glad I'm not in the need to be reading a book to be in a romantic setting anymore. I prefer live action. I prefer it very much."

Those were the last words they exchanged about literature that evening. Live action took place from then on.

Mildred was sitting at her desk when they arrived the next morning. She looked exactly as she always did, except for one thing; she looked like hell. There were dark circles around her eyes, successfully covered by makeup but still visible to Laura's trained eyes. Mr. Steele decided he wasn't ready to confront the early morning before his tea, and went straight to his office.

"Good morning. Had a rough night, Mildred?"

"Oh, Mrs. Steele, I couldn't leave the book until the last page! I barely slept a couple of hours."

"I knew that was going to happen, Mildred. It's the same with me. Once I get caught by a good book, there's no chance to leave it until the end. And as I'm growing older, every time I do that, the effort I need to get through the next day is bigger than before. That's why I'm not reading too much anymore."

Mildred gave Laura a sideways glance. "We both know that's not the case Mrs. Steele, but I'll let it go just because I'm in such a pitiful state today that the last thing I need is to get tangled into semantics with any of you. The manuscript is on your desk. I'll bring some coffee."

"Thank you, Mildred," answered Laura on the way to her office, "We'll take the day easy. I promise."

By noon, Laura was still working in her office when the connecting door opened.

"Are you okay Laura?" asked Mr. Steele.

She left the book on the desk, "Sure. I've just finished a quick reading of the book. There are two or three things that I think we can go over later. Have you finished your morning routines, Mr. Steele?"

He sat down in front of her, "I'm ready to jump into the case, Laura. Go ahead."

Opening the book at one of the several bookmarks she made in it she started, "Okay. First, the book has an open end; the kind that allows another one to pick up the story and follow this one. It's a writer's story. It's really sad…"

"That explains Mildred's makeup…"

She raised her eyes from the book, "I see you noticed it too. Yes, it does. She read through the night, so today it's going to be a hard day for her." She thought about the conversation she shared earlier with the secretary for a moment, and then returned to the matter at hand. "The last thing I noticed is that it all happens at a beach cottage."

"Interesting." Mr. Steele stood up and walked to the file cabinet. Laying his elbow on it he asked Laura, "Why do you think a writer chooses to write a sad story over a different category?"

"I don't know. Maybe it depends on the mood. I don't think anyone could write a comedy if they are going through a tragedy. It could work the other way but not if that's the case."

"Do you think Ryan is lying or hiding something from us?"

"I don't think so. He seemed sincerely worried."

"Does the book have a title already?"

"_Sunset in Ventura_ is the tentative one. It's the one she chose."

"Why do you think it's not the definitive one?"

"Because the book was typed without a title and _Sunset in Ventura_ is hand-written on the top."

"Couldn't it be there is a page left at the beginning? The one with the title perhaps…"

"I don't think so. The pages are numbered," she grabbed the manuscript to check it again.

"I think we need to make a visit to Ryan's house. There must be something there."

"I'll tell Mildred to call him."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The road to the Powell's home meandered into the hills before arriving in Malibu. It was a really nice house, not the opulent kind you could find some miles ahead, but an important one. They rang the bell, and a small woman opened the door.

"Good afternoon, I'm Laura Holt, and this is Remington Steele. Mr. Powell said it was okay for us to come inside and take a look around the house."

"Of course, you are welcome. Please come in."

They went inside, and walked through the reception area. There was a classical atmosphere all around; everything was very neat and spacious.

They arrived at Jane's home office after a few steps. Everything looked different there. Instead of being a small room, the place was generous for an office. The filled bookshelves covered every wall, and the large desk was purposely facing the window. On its surface rested a Remington typewriter with scattered papers around it. A comfortable sofa with a colored blanket laying on it was a cozy touch. It wasn't just an office, it was a refuge. A writer could be working there for hours totally undisturbed.

There was a coffee maker on a table, and what was supposed to be a hidden mini fridge at one corner. But the most noticeable thing was the warm sensation the whole place emanated.

Laura began to go through the bookshelves and its contents. Going through the titles, she discovered several of Jane's favorite authors there_; Poems by Emily Dickinson, First_ _Edition_ and some of William Yeats' Poems. Dickinson was the writer who had inspired Jane to decide to go to Harvard.

There were thousands of books in Jane's office and the topics ranged from history to cooking. There were pictures randomly placed all over the bookshelves; some inside frames, some without them. Ryan and Jane were in all of them. Some of them showed each of them alone, but they were mostly together in the pictures; and looking deeply happy. They looked truly in love in every one of the pictures when they were together.

Mr. Steele decided to go for secret hidden places at the desk. Moving his hand softly under it he found a hidden shift that opened a secret drawer, revealing a manila folder. He opened it and looked inside.

"What is it?" Laura asked.

"I think I found some private letters here. They are all addressed to Jane or to Ryan. They seem to be from some years ago." He put the package on the desk and looked again inside the secret drawer. "Nothing else."

"I don't think we should go through these yet. I would like to at least ask for permission from Ryan."

"Sure." Mr. Steele put the package back inside the secret drawer and cautiously closed it.

"Those must be the notes she made while writing the book," said Laura grabbing some papers from the desk, "It's the same handwriting as the manuscript's title."

"Hmm. It seems to be."

They returned to the office, and asked Mildred to run an investigation about Jane's last bank account movements and credit card expenses. They continued reviewingthe books Ryan had sent to the agency that morning. They noticed that Jane's first books were totally different from the last one she wrote. There were three different series.

The first series was a historical romance about a place called _Amherst_. The second was a trilogy that took place in present-day Connecticut. And the third series, that had four books already published and the last one resting at the editor's desk; took place in California. It was a thriller about an Italian family and their dark business.

"Why do you think she started writing history romance and ended doing a sort of commercial writing?" asked Mr. Steele.

"I don't have a clue. All I know is that she loved Emily Dickinson and William Yeats. She always carried one of their books in her backpack, willing to find a free moment to read some of their poetry."

"She was really a bookworm, was she?"

""Yes, she was. That's why she wasn't going out with boys mostly. She always preferred some pizza and a good book rather than a Friday night out."

"When did she meet Ryan? Do you remember?"

"I think they were together in some classes in high school. We should ask him about that. Maybe he could give us a clue about where they used to go when they were dating."

"Did Ryan mention anything about Jane's parents?"

"I don't remember him saying anything about them, more than they are still living in LA. I like your idea, Mr. Steele. Let's make a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Adler. I'll ask Mildred for the address."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The visit to the Adler's was not at all what they expected and very different from what Laura had predicted. She remembered Jane's mother as a lovely lady, always nice and gracious. Jane's father was different. The man was a kind of engineering genius, who never understood Jane's love for books. Mrs. Adler was always finding great books and lovely first editions for her daughter, while her father was totally absent in that part of her life. They both loved her, but her mother certainly had a much closer relationship with her daughter. They left the neighborhood and were returning to Rossmore with no progress on the case.

"I can't believe what happened with Jane's mother," said Laura, "She was different in the past, very much alive. Did you notice she was absent from half of the conversations? We had to repeat everything to her."

"I noticed. She must be sick. She had a faraway look in her eyes."

"Yes. She looked sad. At least she remembered to give us some of Jane's college stuff. I'll start reading it when we get home."

"Aren't we going to eat?"

"Of course we are going to eat. I suppose you had something in mind."

"Of course I have something in mind. I have lots of things in mind. You know my mind never stops, Laura."

"Tonight, your mind will be focused on dinner, and my mind will be focused on reading."

"Do you think your concentration will be enough?"

"I suppose so. I've always been a good reader. Why are you asking?"

"Because my cooking will be finished long before your reading…"

"Then you can help me with the reading after cooking. You will be very welcome to do so," said Laura.

"I'm not going to spend the night reading some college material, Laura. I can think about of at least a thousand more instructive ways to learn about romance other than reading."

Laura looked at him bewildered. "I wasn't speaking about learning romance from Jane's manuscripts. I was talking about helping me to have some important things done in advance for the case, Mr. Steele. I'm going to have to do some work, and I was expecting some help. But if I'm asking too much, then it's okay. Don't worry. I'll go through the reading all by myself."

The trip continued in silence. They arrived at Rossmore, and after getting inside the apartment Laura left her coat and purse on the sofa, took off her shoes, and sat down to start reading. Mr. Steele went straight to the kitchen to start dinner without saying a word, and after a couple of minutes he returned with a glass of wine for Laura.

"Here, have some wine. Dinner will be ready in half an hour."

"Thank You." She grabbed the glass and had a sip. "I've just found an essay about Mark Twain. You can go through it later if you want. It will be interesting, I assure you."

He looked at the first page with disbelief, sat down and started to read. When Laura noticed after at least thirty minutes, that he was still immersed in the story, she decided to help setting the table. The man was positively trapped in Jane's writings.

"Mr. Steele… Dinner is ready!" She called him from the kitchen door.

"Why Laura, you don't need to scream it…. Oh God… Just don't tell me we are having spaghetti…"

"What's the problem with my spaghetti, Mr. Steele?"

"It's been said that even pineapple pizza is better than your spaghetti, Laura."

She remembered their babysitting night last year, and her last try with spaghetti. It was far from a success to be remembered. "Come on. I just set the table and took out the food from the oven. You're at no risk of being poisoned tonight. And if you help me with the reading, maybe-and I'm being clear-maybe I will stop before going to bed."

He ate and helped to clean the table almost in a hurry.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked.

"Nothing…"

"You want to return to your reading…"

"Come on, Laura. It's not that. I want to finish. You made a promise."

"Okay. Let's make a deal. You finish your Mark Twain, and I'll finish another history. Then we'll put up work for today."

"Deal!"

The deal worked, and they turned off the lights at a respectable hour.

The next day Mildred had all the information they had requested from her. They found that there weren't any movements in the Powell's bank account in the last two weeks, but the credit card had been used at a hotel in Ventura. They were on their way there after lunch.

"Hello, I'm Laura Holt and I'm looking for Jane Powell. Would you tell her we are waiting in the lobby, please?" she asked the clerk.

"I'm sorry madam, but we don't have a guest registered under that name," he answered.

"Jane Adler, perhaps…"

The man checked in the guest list, "No madam I'm sorry."

"She arrived five days ago. Perhaps you can see the records…"

The man was starting to look upset. "I'm sorry, I can't help you Madam."

Laura turned to Mr. Steele totally exasperated. It wasn`t fair that every time he'd tried to go through a secretary or an assistant; he'd always been successful. But every time she tried to do the same thing with a flat employee, it was hard or simply impossible. She agreed when Mr. Steele suggested to enjoy a late lunch and then return to the office.

"I don't like to eat with you reading in front of me, Laura."

"I'm reading while I'm eating my sandwich, because I'm trying to have some work done in advance. Don't complain or you're going to be the one working on the manuscripts." "

"I'm not complaining, Laura. It's just that this reading is becoming like an addiction. You haven't been able to stop reading since this morning; you barely spoke to me the whole day. Your face has been hidden behind papers all afternoon. I told you we weren't going to find anything there, but you need to check it by yourself. You always need to check everything by yourself," he added, not hiding his disappointment.

"Oh my, you are jealous."

"Jealous, me? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You don't like to be ignored. Since I'm concentrating on my reading, and you are not doing the same, even though I asked you to do it for help. You don't have anybody to talk to, you are bored. You are jealous!"

He didn't say a word.

"Mr. Steele, this is work! We are trying to find someone. A client came to the office and hired us to do that. I'm trying to find a clue to find Jane. Don't make it more difficult."

"Are you sure you're not going to return to your old reading habits after closing the case?"

"No, I'm not. I promise. Happy?"

He didn't answer, "Go on. I'm not interrupting anymore."

Once they finished lunch, they decided to return to LA. The sun was beginning to descend and the sky was turning into a perfect mix of pinks and oranges. Their sunglasses were barely allowing them to see the road. They were fifteen minutes away from the office when Laura jumped from her seat.

"I know where she is! Turn back to Ventura."

"Back to Ventura? The traffic is terrible at this hour, Laura. Are you sure we should do it now?"

"U turn, Mr. Steele. Trust me."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The sun was hiding behind the ocean horizon. A soft breeze reminded Laura it was winter. It will be much colder soon. She slowly rubbed her arms, her mind searching for the correct words to say. She looked toward the beach and there she was.

Jane's small silhouette was sitting on the sand looking at the sunset, waiting for the end of the day. It reminded Laura of one of the beautiful essays that Jane had written for her more than ten years ago, titled _Ventura, my place to be_.

Laura asked Mr. Steele to remain in the car; she took off her shoes and walked.

"I was sure you would be here," said Laura, standing a few steps behind Jane.

"I knew you would come eventually. You've always been good with details."

"I never forgot that essay. It was beautiful. I almost cried when I added some of my _personal_ _touches_ to put it more alike my writing style." She made the last steps and sat down on the sand beside Jane.

"Ryan must be worried…"

"Yes he is. He came to ask for help to find you, actually."

"He should not worry. I'm coming home tonight. I just needed some time to think."

Laura remained in silence.

"I really love him; and I love to write. I'm out of the world when I'm writing. It has always been like that, and it will always be. But there was something missing I needed to find."

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"I think I did. You know Laura, I knew I was going to be a writer at the moment I was able to put two letters together. It was magic. I was able to create anything I wanted. It was a glorious sensation. I studied a lot trying to find enough perfection to add to my work. Then I wrote my first book and the first contract arrived, and then a second contract. And there it was; the thrilling vertigo about having a story totally developed; the characters introduced to the readers and growing in their imagination and the work was done. Brightness appeared in my day once I started to type. But after some time everything started to fade. The stories weren't the ones I wanted to tell, the characters weren't the ones I wanted to create, and the brightness was not in my days anymore."

"Why do you think that happened?"

"I suppose I wasn't writing what I needed to write. I was writing what some readers needed to read."

"Sorry for asking but why was that?"

"Because of my last contract. I signed a contract and sold my soul. There were a lot of regulations in it, and rules about how the writing should be done. Writing between those boundaries killed my writing soul. Of course I can do it! But the thing is that I don't like it. And that is a big problem, not just for J. A. Powell, but for Janet. I can't live, doing something I'm not enjoying. The contract is devouring me."

"Is there any way to break it?"

"It's not that simple. Of course there is a way to break it, and I would be good at that. But… and there's always a _but_… I can't do it."

"Collateral damage?"

"Bingo! Ryan's career is on the target right beside mine. If I broke my contract, there would be legal battles to fight. He can't be on one side and the other at the same time. I can't do this to Ryan. He doesn't deserve it."

"You can't do this to yourself either. Jane doesn't deserve it."

"So, which is the way out?" asked Jane.

"I don't know, but I guess Ryan does. He works with writers," answered Laura looking down at the sand.

"No, he works with numbers."

Laura raised her eyes and looked at Jane. "Numbers are what the battle would be all about. He would be great playing that game because it's what he is best at."

"Do you really think so?" asked Jane.

"Yes, I do," Laura added. Jane sighed and looked again to the shoreline. "I can't believe it's so hard. I've always wanted to be a writer. I knew I could be a good one."

"You _are_ a great writer, Jane."

They spent a moment in silence, letting the words sink in.

"Remember that time Mrs. Brown called you to her office and you told her I was helping you with your Math and you were helping me with my Literature?" asked Laura.

Jane smiled, "Yes, I do."

"She called me in later."

"You never told me that."

"I know. She told me that I wasn't doing any favor to her going through all of your math exercises for you. But, that I was helping to create an excellent writer. She was aware of your writing talent because Mrs. Benet always showed her your essays; and she knew about the grades level needed to get into college, and especially to be admitted in Harvard. She was absolutely sure you were going to go for that and she asked me to go on helping you because she wanted to see a book of yours published before she was too old to read it."

"I never knew that," she said smiling.

"I know. She made me swear secrecy."

"Well, I guess she had the opportunity to read some of my books. I hope to be not such a disappointment."

"I'm sure she is proud of you."

There was a long silence between them.

"I guess I might go and talk to Ryan and try to find a solution together."

"He would like you to do that. He is completely devastated thinking about what thing could be wrong with him. He really loves you. He is desperate for you to come back home."

They were finally lying in bed after a rough day. Laura's head was on his shoulder, his hand playing with her hair.

"I'm glad Jane is back with Ryan. And I'm glad they solved their problem. She was vanishing behind J. A. Powell's successful career and didn't know how to make Jane stand again."

"That's what you two were speaking about at the beach?"

"Yes. She told me that her last editorial contract was killing her soul, her own writing identity. She needed to get rid of it to continue writing, but she was worried about Ryan's future career because he works for her publishers company."

"They solved it in the better way. She being her own self again and he doing what he loves to do, right beside her."

"You know…"

"What?" he asked.

"There's something that's been bothering me since we got married

He straightened up a bit to see her face.

"I'm not sure I want Laura Holt totally out of my life…"

"Well, I agree with that. I really love having Laura Holt in my life," he said.

"I'm thinking about being _Laura Holt_ at the office. I don't mind being _Laura Holt Steele_ everywhere else, but I need a reminder about who I am when we are working. I don't want to feel lost in the Steele world. Does it bother you?"

"Bother me? Laura… How could you ask me that? If there is something I really don't want, it's to lose the tiniest part of you. I want you just like you are. And I like you because you are Laura Holt, the woman who stole my heart. You want to be Laura Holt at the office? I like that. I'll be able to call you Miss Holt again. I was missing it." He kissed her brow.

"But just around the office."

"Just around the office; I promise. I'll enjoy calling you Laura for the rest of the time…"

"You can call me Mrs. Steele if you want."

"Mmm. I'll go for Laura tonight…"


	7. Chapter 7

**Epilogue**

Laura opened the agency doors and came into the office with energy, like always, "Good morning Mildred. Mr. Steele is coming in later. He had some early errands to run."

"He didn't get up in time…"

"Right. I drove myself alone, please send Fred to pick him up," she answered while peering through the mail.

"Have you seen the newspaper, Miss Holt? Jane and Ryan are launching their own publishing company. They look pretty good in the pictures."

Laura left the envelopes on Mildred's desk and grabbed the paper, "_Jane Adler Powell and Ryan Powell at Ventura's Publishers launching… _

_"_Her new book arrived this morning as well. The cover is fantastic," said Mildred, putting it in Laura's hands.

"She came back; starting by her full name on the book cover, _My Place to be, by Jane Adler Powell_." Laura opened it and read the dedication: _To my special Math Teacher, Mrs. Brown. _"I'm glad for her, Mildred. In fact I'm glad for them. They are really good people." She started toward her office, book in hand.

"Do you want some coffee, honey?"

"I'll try with some tea this morning, Mildred."

"Everything all right?"

"Everything is perfect, Mildred; simply perfect. It's a very bright morning."


End file.
